


Chatterbox

by Cheshyr



Category: Guns N' Roses, Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019), The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band Book - Mötley Crüe & Neil Strauss
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompts, collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshyr/pseuds/Cheshyr
Summary: A collection of one-shots written for prompts on tumblr. Mostly Motley Crue with some Guns n' Roses.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson, Nikki Sixx/Vince Neil, Tommy Lee/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. Home Away From Home

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Please don't cry" with Nikki/Tommy

Tommy couldn’t sleep.

The drummer had to resist punching the hotel pillow he was laying on out of sheer frustration. It was dark and quiet in the Austin hotel the band was staying at. They were just about a month into their first tour, and so far things were going great. Nikki was sprawled out next to him, the two of them having gotten wasted to the point where the bassist was too unsteady to make it to his own room. The suite was trashed, but the bed was soft and warm, Nikki’s quiet breathing was steady and soothing beside him, Motley Crue was taking their first steps into stardom. Everything was perfect.

There was no reason for Tommy to be choking back tears.

Well, he thought to himself as he shoved his face into his pillow, there was a reason. It just wasn’t a _good_ reason. It was a stupid, pathetic reason that would have his band mates laughing in his face. God, he felt like such a little kid. Weeks and months spent trying to keep up with all the grown ups and here he was, emotions bubbling over like a fucking child.

His chest hurts with the effort to hold everything in, and even still tears are escaping down his cheeks. He’s debating going out on the balcony, or maybe leaving the hotel entirely, when Nikki starts shifting and shit shit shit _shit_-

“Tom?” He mumbles, voice husky with sleep as he blinks slowly.

Immediately, Tommy shoves his face deeper into the pillow, hiding his tears and the flush of humiliation overtaking his face. Swallowing thickly, he tries to lay still, crossing his fingers that maybe Nikki is still drunk and will think he’s asleep.

“Hey, T-Bone, are you okay?” Goddamn it, Nikki sounds more awake now, even sitting up on his elbows to give the drummer next to him his full attention.

“‘M fine,” The words are muffled, but Nikki can still hear the way Tommy’s voice cracks just slightly.

As his friend’s shoulders start shaking, Nikki feels his eyes widen in alarm, “H-hey, hey, it’s okay,” He hesitantly pets at Tommy’s hair, but the drummer stubbornly stays face down, refusing to face the bassist. 

Unsure of what else he can do, but wanting so bad to do something, Nikki softly lays himself over Tommy’s back, awkwardly hugging him from behind. “Shhh, please don’t cry, you’re okay, it’s okay….”

They stay like that for almost ten minutes, Tommy sniffling quietly while Nikki soothed him, his body like a blanket over the younger man. Finally, the drummer raised his head slightly, rubbing a hand roughly across his face, “Sorry. I’m sorry if I woke you up…”

“No, no, it’s fine dude,” Nikki rolled off of him, allowing Tommy to sit up fully. He looked miserable and embarrassed, eyes red and puffy and cheeks flushed. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

Biting his lip, Tommy looked down nervously, “It’s stupid…”

“Hey, come on now, I’m sure it’s not!” Nikki insisted, “And besides, we’re the terror twins! You can tell me anything, man,” his voice was nothing but sincere.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy brought one hand up to cover his face. He mumbled something half-heartedly under his breath, but when Nikki asked him to repeat himself, he reluctantly spoke clearer, “_I’m homesick._”

Nikki blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, the words started spilling out of Tommy’s lips like a broken dam, “I know it’s dumb, and I’m not a little kid anymore, I’m supposed to be an adult, but I’ve never been away from home this long before. I usually see my parents like, every other weekend, and I talk to my sister all the time, but the concert and travel schedule means we haven’t been able to connect, and so we’ve just been leaving each other voicemails and it’s weird, and I miss them, and everything is different, and not even in a _bad_ way or anything but it’s just a lot and, and…” he trails off, hands waving uselessly in front of him, “and, yeah. It’s dumb.”

“That’s not dumb at all,” Nikki doesn’t miss a beat when he responds, “That makes total sense, dude, nothing about being homesick is dumb. And… that sucks,” he says softly, looking at Tommy with such gentleness it catches the drummer by surprise, “I’m sorry, dude. I wish I could help.”

Sniffling slightly, Tommy manages a small smile, “Actually… just getting it all off my chest helps a lot,” he nudges Nikki’s shoulder lightly, “Thanks.”

“Of course, anytime, dude,” Grinning, Nikki reaches out and tugs on Tommy’s hair, pulling him forward until his head is on Nikki’s shoulder, drawing a huff of laughter from the younger man as he wraps his arms around him.

They stay that way the rest of the night, settling down on the bed again, and cocooned in Nikki’s arms, Tommy feels the most at home that he has in weeks.


	2. Dress to Impress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You said to be honest, stop hitting me!" with Nikki/Tommy

Tommy felt a little like a high school girl, laying on his stomach on his bed, head in his hands, legs kicking behind him while Nikki tried on different outfits in front of him. Motley Crue was playing at the Whiskey-a-Go-Go that night, their biggest venue so far, and all of them were off the walls excited for it. So obviously, Nikki demanded to raid his boyfriend’s closet to find a suitable outfit.

The bassist spent most of his money on increasingly flashy high heeled boots, most of which were currently piled on Tommy’s floor, and so he had developed a habit of stealing the rest of his outfit from his boyfriend. It had become a bit of a battle between them actually, not because Tommy minded lending the other man his clothes, but because Nikki had a habit of never returning them.

“Okay, okay,” Nikki turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall before turning to Tommy, “What do you think about this one? Be honest.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Nikki flipped his hair and posed dramatically. He was wearing a form-fitting tank top with a dark denim vest over it. Black leather warm warmers went up to his biceps with laces running up the sides. Chains and studs decorated tight black leather pants, and the outfit was completed with his favorite red thigh high boots. 

Tommy grinned, biting his lip, “I think it’d look better on my bedroom floor.”

Immediately, the coy look Nikki had been wearing was replaced with an embarrassed flush. Tommy always found it adorable how quick Nikki’s confidence turned to shyness when faced with blatant flirting. Sputtering, he stepped forward to slap at Tommy’s head, “Shut _up!_”

Laughing, the drummer threw his arms up to defend himself, “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

“That’s not helpful!” He exclaimed, unable to suppress a grin even as he blushed. 

Lightly grabbing his wrists to stop the attack, Tommy sat up, pulling Nikki closer with a smirk, “Hm, I could probably think of a few _other_ ways to describe how you look right now if you want-”

“_Stop!_” Nikki laughed, covering Tommy’s entire face with his hand.

Chuckling, the drummer wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, tugging him forward until his knees hit the bed, “You wanted my opinion! And my opinion is you should just take the whole outfit off. Right now, preferably.” 

“Hm,” Nikki hummed in consideration, leaning forward with a smirk until his lips were nearly touching Tommy’s, “That bad, huh?”

Sliding his hands under Nikki’s shirt, Tommy grinned mischievously as they tumbled back onto the bed together, “Oh yes,” he drawled, “very, _very_, bad.”


	3. Save Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I think I'm in love with you" with Slash/Axl

In hindsight, Slash thinks maybe things would have gone smoother if he’d uttered his confession during sex or something. Then Axl could have written it off as a heat of the moment thing and Slash could have carried on loving him privately.

But that’s not what happened. 

What _happened_, was that Ax was in the living room, vaguely working on a new song, mostly just dancing and jumping around as he sang to himself while Slash watched quietly from the doorway. Their other roommates/band mates were out and about somewhere, leaving just the two of them. They had been fucking for about a month now, and it was _supposed_ to be casual. But watching Axl dance now, Slash realized he was less distracted by the swing of the redhead’s hips than he was by the carefree smile on his face. 

So when the singer finally let the last notes of his impulsive rehearsal trail off and he turned to Slash to ask, “What do you think?”

Slash replied, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The guitarist was pretty sure he could hear the gears grind to a halt in Axl’s head. After a moment of silence, the redhead narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “…Come again?”

And maybe Slash should have shrugged it off, or played dumb, or come up with some sort of excuse, but hey, in for a penny, right? “I said, I think I’m in love with you.”

Axl’s jaw actually dropped, “I- well- _stop!_”

“…Stop what?” Slash questioned in honest confusion.

“Stop fucking loving me!” he waved his arms sharply, voice raising as he snapped, “Or, or thinking you love me, or whatever! Just don’t!”

Normally Slash would have snapped back at him. But in all honesty, he was a bit lost right now, “Are… are you _mad at me_ for being in love with you?”

“No!” Axl snapped. He practically snarled when Slash raised an eyebrow pointedly, “I’m not- just- don’t be dumb! I get that we’re fuck buddies, and maybe that’s messing with your head, but have some fucking self preservation and go love literally anyone else.”

There was a long pause as Slash carefully considered Axl’s words. “You know,” he drawled, “as much as I appreciate your… concern? I guess? I can’t help but notice you haven’t actually specified if you love me back or not.”

The singer gaped for a moment before sputtering out, “Because it’s irrelevant!”

“It was relevant before, and it just became even _more_ relevant.”

“Oh, fuck off!” 

Axl huffed, turning away with every intention of storming off to… somewhere. But he barely got two steps before Slash was darting out in front of him, hands up in a placating manner and a smirk on his face.

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on,” His smile only grew gentler when Axl glared, “Look, I get that this is maybe a bit sudden, but you can’t talk me out of loving you.”

“Oh yes I _fucking_ can!” The singer honest to God stomped his foot, “One day, I’m going to lose my temper and throw your guitar out a window! We’ll see how much you love me then!”

Slash raised an eyebrow, “You know I can be mad at you and love you at the same time, right?”

That had Axl blinking in surprise. After a beat of silence, he sighed heavily, grinding out through clenched teeth, “Why are you being so insistent about this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the only response he got was a huff as Axl crossed his arms and looked away petulantly. Smiling softly, he continued, “You don’t have to say it back. Hell, we don’t have to change anything about what we got if you don’t want. But just… now you know.” He reached out, running his hands down the redhead’s arms comfortingly, and was relieved when he didn’t pull away.

When Axl finally looked back at him, the anger was gone from his face. He just looked perplexed. “You’re some kind of masochist, huh?”

And Slash couldn’t help but laugh, letting his hands drop to Axl’s waist, “Yeah,” he grinned, “I guess I am.”


	4. Food for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You deserve better than me" with Nikki/Tommy

Maybe, Tommy thought to himself, if he buried his face in his knees long enough, the thick black smoke wafting through the kitchen would just… go away.

It wasn’t like the fire was still going or anything- the frying pan had been thrown into the sink in a panic, doused by the faucet before the flames could spread significantly, leaving only a few char marks on the wall next to the stove top- but the smoke still hung thick in the air, the smell of burning lingering something awful, burning Tommy’s nose when he sniffled pathetically.

He didn’t want to cry. Crying would be dumb. But then again _Tommy_ was dumb, the situation was dumb, everything about everything was dumb so who gave a fuck, crying would just be the dumb cherry on top of this dumb fucking day. All the drummer had wanted was to make a simple romantic gesture for his boyfriend, he had even been careful not to try something too extravagant. After all, it was the thought that counts, right? So even if he was just cooking some grilled cheese for the two of them to share after Nikki got home from work, he was sure the other boy would appreciate it. Nikki loved little things like that.

But of course, Tommy managed to screw even that up. And now here he was, curled up in the middle of the disaster he’d turned their kitchen into, miserable, thinking of all the ways he and Nikki didn’t make sense.

Nikki was so cool, gorgeous, talented, strong. He could have anyone he wanted, so why the Hell would he choose Tommy? Tommy who was all gangly limbs and over-enthusiasm and poor impulse control. Tommy who couldn’t do anything right.

When he heard the front door open, Tommy honestly just wanted to jump out the window. But his body froze, leaving him stuck in his sad little heap in the corner to listen as footsteps rapidly approached the kitchen.

“What the fuck?” Nikki slid into the kitchen, alarm coloring his voice as he waved his hand to try to clear some of the smoke in front of him. He glanced around swiftly, looking for any sign of an active fire, when his eyes landed on his boyfriend, “Jesus Christ, Tommy are you okay?” He kneeled down, arms pulling at Tommy to try to check for any injuries, “What happened?”

His alarm only grew when Tommy finally looked up, tears running down his cheeks, “I’m so stupid.”

“Hey, no one talks about my boyfriend like that,” Nikki smiled comfortingly, brows still furrowed with worry, but when he tried to tilt the drummer’s head up, Tommy batted his hands away.

“You deserve better than me,” he mumbled.

There was a long pause, and Tommy was certain Nikki was trying to come up with a nice way to agree with him. But when he finally spoke, the bassist just sounded confused, “…Okay, T-Bone I’m gonna level with you. I have no idea what is happening right now. I thought the kitchen was on fire, and you haven’t told me if you’re hurt yet, and you’re upset, and I’m not sure which issue is most pressing right now?”

Despite himself, Tommy snorted out a laugh. Wiping at his face, he explained, “I’m fine. I was trying to cook you dinner and, well…” he gestured broadly at the smoke that was slowly clearing out, “you can see how well that went. I was just trying to make grilled cheese, I honestly don’t even know how I managed to fuck up so bad!”

Sniffling sadly, Tommy glanced up at Nikki and almost did a double-take. The way Nikki was looking at him you’d think Tommy had just handed him the moon. “You were cooking for me?” he whispered with something like awe in his voice.

The warmth and love in his voice was too much, and Tommy found himself gaping, arms flailing dramatically, “Did you miss the part where I fucking _failed?_” he exclaimed, ranting in frustration, “Why the Hell are you even with me? I screwed up the simplest thing ever! You deserve better than me!” he repeated emphatically.

But if anything, Nikki’s expression only softened more, “Tommy, I’m not dating you because of your skills as a housewife.”

“Oh shut up,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Chuckling, the bassist continued, “I’m serious. I’m with you because you’re my favorite person, because I can’t stop fucking smiling when I’m with you, and you’re always so goddamn loving. I’m with you because I like who I am when I’m with you. Fuck man, there’s a long list of reasons I’m with you. Most of the time I think _you_ deserve better than _me_,” he admitted softly.

“What? That’s ridiculous!” sitting up more, Tommy couldn’t resist reaching out to rest his hands on Nikki’s waist.

“Well, now you know how I feel when you say shit like that,” he grinned, leaning forward to kiss the other man gently but firmly.

Smiling into the kiss, Tommy figured he couldn’t really argue with that. When Nikki pulled him to his feet saying, “Fuck it, let’s just order pizza or something,” Tommy laughed and followed easily. Maybe the two of them made more sense than he thought.

It’s an hour later, as they’re eating together in Nikki’s room when the front door opens again and they hear Vince shout.

“What the _FUCK_ happened to our kitchen?!”


	5. Guess Who

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This changes everything" with Vince/Nikki

Vince was very, incredibly, _fantastically_ wasted. 

So basically the average Saturday night.

The Crue had just finished up another show, and the crowds were starting to get wild. They were actually making serious plans about how to go about making their first album. Definitely a cause for celebration, including but not limited to a long line of free shots and an even longer line of cocaine. 

But as the adrenaline from the show ebbed away and the drugs started to hit, Vince found himself growing uncharacteristically somber. And of course, it was all the bassist’s fault.

It should be illegal for a man to be as pretty as Nikki was. He was the first person Vince seriously considered possibly being prettier than himself (_possibly_). Add to that some wicked sense of humor, musical talent, and some thigh high boots, and Vince didn’t stand a chance.

Glancing around the room, the man in question was nowhere to be seen, leaving Vince to sigh heavily and slump forward in his seat. The bar was loud and crowded, the few drunk girls dancing on the tabletops not nearly as good of a distraction as Vince had hoped. In all honesty, the whole situation was frustrating. For the last several years, the singer had had his pick of conquests- men and women alike flocking to him, running their hands along his arms and chest, batting their eyes at him, making their desires loud and clear. All he had to do was lick his lips and he could have whoever he wanted. But Nikki wasn’t like that. The bassist wasn’t some groupie- he was on a whole different level which meant Vince had to actually _work_ to get his attention. 

And Vince was a little out of practice.

Deciding that another drink was definitely needed, the blonde stood and made his way over to the bar, pausing to get his balance as he swayed on his feet. Okay, maybe another drink wasn’t _needed_, per say, at least if the spinning of the room was anything to go by. But the singer was too forlorn to be discouraged, so he continued his journey. As he approached, he saw the wild black hair of the band’s drummer sitting at the bar on one of the stools, and immediately made a beeline for him.

Tommy had been surprisingly supportive when Vince had admitted his crush, at least in terms of patting his shoulder sympathetically and saying some variation of “that sucks dude”, but he would take what he could get.

Stumbling the last few steps, Vince practically collapsed against the drummer’s back. He felt the other man jump a little in surprise, but before he could turn around Vince was resting his cheek against the wild black hair on the back of his head, “Tommyyyy,” he whined pathetically, “Nikki’s gone. He’s probably with some girl who’s not as pretty as me. It’s not fair,” He pouted. “I could- I could have fucking anyone. But that fucking bassist just- just-” he waved one hand vaguely as he slurred, “What do I have to do to get his attention, man? I got- I got people lining up for me, but he still runs off with chicks that are, like… not me. And I’m _better_, I’m like, a fucking twelve outta ten, he doesn’t know what he’s fucking missing. How do I- how do I make him know what he’s missing?”

When he trails off, there’s a long pause, which is unusual. Tommy is usually pretty quick to offer vague platitudes and sympathy when Vince gets in this kind of mood. He’s still leaning against the other man’s back, the only thing keeping him standing, honestly. Just when he’s about to ask if something is wrong, he finally hears a response.

“Huh.”

And Vince feels his whole body turn to ice. Because _that_ was most definitely _not Tommy’s voice_.

He’s frozen in place when the other man swivels the bar stool around until he finds himself inches away from vibrant green eyes. Vince is pretty sure he’s going to pass out, his voice breathy when he finally manages to speak.

“Mother. Fucking. _Terror Twins_.”

Nikki smirks slowly, teeth glistening and eyes sharp like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “Well, then,” He drawls, leaning forward to get even more into Vince’s space, “this changes _everything_.”

“I’m just… gonna go jump out a window or something,” Vince stutters out, and he feels like a middle schooler, he’s never felt this mortified in his life.

But before he can turn and run away, Nikki reaches out and hooks a finger through one of Vince’s belt loops, “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds teasingly, tugging Vince forward until they’re standing chest to chest, Nikki’s knees bracing his hips. The bassist is smiling up at him, and as Vince tries to blink away the haze of drugs and alcohol, he thinks he sees excitement in Nikki’s eyes. Or maybe joy. Or both.

Nikki leans up, and his lips brush against Vince’s as he speaks, “I want to know what I’ve been missing.”

And Vince is not about to pass up _that_ opportunity. So, grinning widely, he wastes no time pushing their lips together. After all, he wants to see what _he’s_ been missing, too.

Across the room, Tommy throws his arms in the air and screams.

“FUCK. YES. _FINALLY_.”

He was getting tired of listening to both of them pine.


	6. Snap/Crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It's okay, you can cry" with Slash/Axl
> 
> (Loosely inspired by when Axl broke his foot in '91, but I don't follow timelines or anything so shhhhh)

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘break a leg’?” Axl asked the audience, grinning tensely into the microphone, “'Cause, I think I just did.”

Slash snapped his head over to the singer. He had seen him stumble when he jumped off one of the amps, but the redhead hadn’t missed a beat of the verse, so he hadn’t thought anything of it. In hindsight though he realized that Axl had been far less animated the remainder of the song. Looking across the stage, he could see Duff and Izzy wearing matching looks of concern, Steven wide eyed and worried behind his drums. But before any of them could move to do anything, Axl started going into the next song, leaving his band mates to quickly get in gear. The show must go on, apparently. 

The guitarist wanted to believe that maybe Axl was fine- maybe his boyfriend had just been joking, or exaggerating, and nothing was wrong. But the entire rest of the show he watched the singer lean heavily on his right foot, never putting too much pressure on his left, and he hopped as best he could but never jumped, and skipped a little but never ran. His singing never faltered, because he was fucking _good_ at what he did, but anytime Axl turned away from the audience, his eyes would clench shut for just a moment.

Axl was in pain.

When they finished the last song, giving a few final waves and calls to the audience, the band was finally free to descend upon their singer. Duff’s long legs got him there first, throwing an arm around the redhead as casually as he could when all he wanted to do was just pick him up entirely. Slash and Izzy reached Axl’s right side at the same time, resulting in a quick staredown- the best friend versus the boyfriend- before Slash sighed and relented, standing back and allowing the other man to wrap an arm around Axl’s waist and fall into step with the others. Slash and Steven followed close behind as the singer was practically carried off stage.

“_Fuuuuuuuuuck_,” Axl hissed when they finally made it backstage, discarding all pretense as he leaned against his band mates and held his injured foot off the ground, “Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_" Most of the crew was quick to clear out of the way, scared off by Axl’s angry screech.

“I’ll go grab the medic,” Steven volunteered, quickly sprinting ahead of the group. 

When they finally reached the dressing room, Axl was quick to pull away from Duff and Izzy, batting their hands away as he fell onto the couch, stretching his left leg out beside him, “Fuck,” he muttered. His tone was tired, and frustrated, and his hands shook just slightly when he ran them roughly through his hair.

“Anything we can do while we wait for the nurse?” Duff asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet with the desire to do _something_ to help. 

Axl was too busy grinding his teeth and staring at the ceiling to respond, so Izzy decided to show some mercy and answered, “Why don’t you grab a couple bottles of water?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Duff immediately rushed out of the room to complete his task. With a mental ‘fuck it’, Slash moved to sit beside Axl on the couch. He could see the muscle in Axl’s jaw twitch as he ground out, “You all need to chill the fuck out, I’m fine.”

“Really,” Slash drawled, raising an eyebrow, “because you were cussing up quite a storm a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah because it hurts like a fucking bitch, that doesn’t mean _I’m_ a bitch!” Axl snapped, snarling at the guitarist, “I can fucking handle it, so back off!”

As the singer turned away, Slash and Izzy shared a look.

“I’m gonna go see what’s taking Steven so long,” Izzy stated calmly, exiting the room with a small nod so that Slash would understand. He was buying them a little time.

Weeks ago, when Axl and Slash got into their first fight as a couple, the lead guitarist had ended up shitfaced and laying on the floor of Izzy’s bedroom, complaining about the redhead’s inability to react to anything negative with anything other than anger.

“Why can’t he just, just fucking _feel_ things like a normal person? Not everything is cause for him fucking breaking a lamp or whatever!”

Izzy had looked at him with a steady gaze, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he debated his next words. “You know,” he began slowly, “Axl didn’t learn all the same things that we did. His childhood lessons were… different than most.”

Even drunk as he was, Slash immediately felt his heart sink. They all knew Axl’s past was rough. Only Izzy knew the details, but they all _knew_.

Shrugging, Izzy tilted his head up to exhale a stream of smoke, “I think even now, he thinks that if he shows that he’s hurt- _really_ hurt- he’ll be punished for it,” he turned to look Slash in the eye, a sad sort of exhaustion in his voice, “And he’ll be hurt even more.”

Slash thought of his own parents, of his family, and he honestly couldn’t wrap his head around it. He couldn’t fathom being punished for being vulnerable. But after that day, it was a little easier to understand the man he loved. It was easier to see the way rage would cloak Axl like a shield, to see the defense behind his attacks. To see the fear in every snap of his teeth.

And he could see it now, too. 

Axl was no stranger to physical pain. But he was still a stranger to comfort in the face of it. So Slash was slow and clear as he moved to put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. He was undeterred when the singer tensed, hushing him softly as he pulled Axl’s back against his chest. Hugging him close, he placed a gentle kiss on his fiery hair.

“It’s okay, you can cry,” he whispered soothingly. He felt the hitch in Axl’s breath more than heard it. Thin shoulders started to shake in his embrace, and he knew the singer was trying to hold it all in, biting back the pain. Leaning in closer, he kissed the skin below Axl’s ear, keeping his words soft and private even in the empty room, “I know it hurts. You’re safe. I’ve got you. It’s okay to cry now. You’re safe now.”

There’s no response. But a few minutes later he feels a drop of water on his hand. 

It’s quiet. The silent tears are almost jarring compared to Axl’s usual volume and presence, but Slash doesn’t push anymore. He just keeps holding him, whispering softly as Axl lets go as much as he can. 

When a knock on the door sounds five minutes later, Slash waits until Axl has hastily wiped his face before calling out for the person to come in. The room quickly fills up with the rest of the band and the on-call medics, no one commenting on the singer’s red rimmed eyes. But as they bustle around to assess his leg, and even when they declare that he will have to go to the hospital because his foot is most certainly broken, Axl is still far more relaxed than he had been. Like a weight off his shoulders.

When the group finally leaves to make their journey to the hospital, because none of them wanted to leave, Axl manages a smile. 

And when Slash sweeps him up bridal style, he even manages to laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr @motherfucker-oftheyear


End file.
